Chapter 229
Chapter 229:
Her phone buzzed. An alert from her stock portfolio.
Thorne Industries: -12% in pre-market trading.
She smirked. The bleeding hadn’t stopped.
Meanwhile, in his high-rise office at Thorne Manor in the heart of Manhattan, Elias Thorne stood before a wall of monitors.
“Sir?” his chief of staff asked. “The acquisition of the French firm…”
Elias didn’t turn. His eyes were fixed on a tracking map on the central screen. A small icon labeled PL-HELO-1 was tracing a path down the Hudson corridor, currently passing over the George Washington Bridge. She was still miles away, but closing in fast.
“Pause,” Elias commanded, his voice low.
He watched the dot move. She was leaving the Kensingtons. She was coming back to his territory.
Elias adjusted his cufflinks, a predatory calmness settling over him. He hadn’t intervened at the hospital; he had let her handle her family. But now that she was airborne, now that she was returning to the city where the real war was being fought, he was ready.
“Cancel the afternoon meetings,” Elias said, finally turning away from the screen. “And tell the kitchen to prepare something light. She hates heavy meals after travel.”
“Sir, the press conference regarding the merger is in an hour.”
“Postpone it,” Elias said, walking toward the door of his private study. “Tell them I have a strategic realignment to attend to.”
“Is everything alright?”
“It will be,” Elias said, checking his watch. “If I leave now, I can make it to the heliport before her rotors stop spinning.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He strode out of the office, his long coat billowing behind him. He wasn’t just a CEO watching a screen anymore; he was a man in pursuit.
Back in the helicopter, the city grew larger, filling the window.
Back in the hospital, Vivian was scrolling through Instagram with her left hand. It was clumsy, frustrating.
She saw a post from Harper Yates. A photo of the NYC skyline with the caption: The City awaits its true owner. Welcome back, A.
Vivian hurled her phone across the room. It cracked against the wall, spiderwebbing the screen.
“Nurse!” she screamed. “My pillow needs fluffing!”
A nurse entered, looking tired. “Ms. Kensington, please use the call button.”
“I am Vivian Kensington!” Vivian shrieked. “I don’t push buttons! I give orders!”
“Not anymore,” the nurse muttered under her breath, picking up the broken phone. “Your mother’s credit card was declined for the private nurse upgrade this morning. You’re on standard care now.”
Vivian froze. Declined?
The reality crashed down on her. She wasn’t just crippled. She was broke.
High above the river, Aurora opened her laptop. The helicopter’s vibration was soothing. She pulled up the bankruptcy filing drafts for Thorne Industries. They were public record now, if you knew where to look.
.